The Mantises' Way of Fighting

Across the grassland where gray and black clashed, a streak of emerald green suddenly plunged into the fray.

With the Mantis Lord at their head, the hunters rushed onto the battlefield.

The mantises carried homemade nails and poisoned short blades, while some fought directly with their bladelike forelegs.

Leading the charge, Mortas raised his weapon and lunged at the largest beast in sight.

The black-shelled beasts soon spotted these unfamiliar creatures and roared as they charged at the mantises to feed.

Viewed from above, emerald-green and gray-black waves could be seen crashing together across the black plain.

Yet instead of the fierce struggle one might have expected, the beasts began to crumble the instant they clashed.

The seemingly powerful beasts either had their shells pierced by tremendous force or had their limbs slashed by poisoned short blades, leaving them twitching on the ground.

The black shells they took such pride in proved utterly useless.

Unlike the Ashen Clan, who needed the right angle to cleave through the shells, the mantises never probed their opponents. Every strike was a killing blow.

This also had to do with the environment they had always lived in.

Hunters never tangled with their prey for long. Explosive bursts of strength and lethal strikes were their greatest advantages.

As for Mortas...

Since his twin blades had been destroyed in his fight with the captain, the Mantis Lord now wielded a different weapon: a long, slender nail-spear.

Its longer reach made it suited to continuous attacks such as lunges and downward thrusts.

Its attacks were swift and fluid. Any enemy a little too slow would find themselves utterly at his mercy.

Amid the beasts constantly lunging at him, Mortas deftly swung his spear, tracing elegant red arcs as he dodged.

In his earlier duel with the captain, Mortas had not expected his opponent to be particularly strong, so he had not used this weapon, his true primary armament.

And the circumstances had indeed justified that choice. Had the Sunfire God not intervened, the captain would inevitably have been worn down and killed.

Naturally, Mortas could not accept his sudden defeat by some unknown means. Now, he intended to redeem himself against these black-shelled beasts.

Watch closely. This is my true strength!

With that thought, Mortas hurled several throwing knives at a few beasts, accurately striking the places unprotected by their shells.

The sudden pain immediately disrupted their movements, and the resulting chain reaction threw the herd into chaos.

Seizing the opportunity, the Mantis Lord pushed off with both feet mid-run, leaped high into the air, and plunged straight down toward the ground.

Falling Kill

This was a move Mortas had honed for years, using the acceleration of his descent to maximize his killing power.

BOOM!!!

An enormous blast rang out. Not only the huge beast he had targeted, but an entire circle around the impact point was reduced to corpses.

"Raaagh!" At the center of the impact, the Mantis Lord raised his nail-spear high and let out a roar of exhilaration.

It was undeniably a spectacular sight. Even the captain, who was heading toward the temporary camp in the distance, could not help frowning and clicking his tongue when he saw it.

Once again, he realized that his opponent had never used his true strength against him.

Without his god's help back then, he would not only have died a gruesome death on the spot, but the failure of his mission would have left him too ashamed to face the clan.

I need to work twice as hard. Otherwise, I won't be able to live up to my god's expectations.

With that thought, the captain quickened his steps toward camp once more. He had to tell the chieftain about the technique his god had bestowed on him.

Green now dominated the battlefield. The black patches were like stains on a porcelain plate, scrubbed away bit by bit by a green brush.

The mantises were visibly exhilarated. In the past, they had been forbidden from hunting excessively in order to preserve the ecological balance of the Fungal Wastes.

Now that they could finally unleash their full strength, they held nothing back, hunting to their hearts' content on this unfamiliar battlefield.

Among them, Quyin, formerly a scout of Mantis Village, was especially different from before.

As one of the few mantises in Mantis Village capable of flight, he attacked from above, occasionally dropping poisoned short blades. Wherever he flew, beasts lay twitching on the ground below.

He understood his role perfectly. A juvenile mantis simply could not wield weapons that relied on explosive strength.

Making flexible use of his advantages was the right approach on the battlefield.

After witnessing Lin Jin's miracle and hearing Mortas's warning, he understood that Mantis Village's future had never been promising.

This battle was not merely about proving their worth to a god and gaining his protection. The mantises needed to forge a new path.

So he gave it everything he had, seeking new possibilities by trying a fighting style he had once regarded as heretical.

Yet as he fought, Quyin recalled the battle that day between the chieftain and the warrior of another race.

Somewhere deep within, he too was praying, hoping to draw his god's attention and yearning for that same miracle.

With severed limbs flying through the air and the stench of blood spreading, even the beasts, driven by nothing but instinct, felt fear and no longer dared approach.

The herd began to retreat...

The mantises' brutal artistry would have left anyone awestruck.

This form of warfare-no, it could no longer be called warfare. It was nothing short of a ruthlessly efficient slaughterhouse.

In their very first appearance, the mantises had revealed their advantages: swift mobility and lethal power that killed in a single strike.

Inside the camp, the Ashen Clan, who had long relied on steady advances and close-quarters fighting, watched with their jaws hanging open.

Speed had never been their strength, and their bodies had no sharp appendages. They could hardly imagine how an insect could fight by darting up and down like that.

Now, watching another group of insects so easily solve the problem that had trapped them for so long, most of the warriors gritted their teeth and clenched their weapons, their faces full of resentment.

Though the mantises had come as reinforcements, the Ashen Clan watched them leap and dive as though they were rivals.

Gron's expression was little better. The mantises' advantages were obvious: they were fast and ruthless.

His own warriors, by contrast, were far too plain. To put it kindly, they had no weaknesses. More bluntly, they had no advantages.

If this continued, it would probably not be long before the mantises took the leading role in the expedition instead.

"Chieftain, who exactly are they...?"

With no further need to defend the walls, one warrior finally could not help asking his leader. These unfamiliar reinforcements had left the entire Ashen Clan feeling threatened.

Gron said nothing, merely raising a hand to signal for the gate to be opened. His grim expression made it clear that he, too, was in a foul mood.

Soon, under the mighty hunters' assault, the beasts could hold out no longer and broke into a rout.

Mortas did not order a pursuit. Instead, he led his troops slowly toward the expedition's temporary camp.

After such a satisfying hunt, many of the mantises were in excellent spirits. As they walked, they occasionally chatted with their companions about how many beasts they had killed and what hunting techniques they had used.

As the mantises drew closer, the Ashen warrior nearest the gate finally could not help raising his weapon warily.

That cautious stance made Gron sigh. "Intimidated, are you? You're only showing weakness."

The warrior could hardly be blamed. Not a single insect who had witnessed that feast of slaughter had come away unshaken.

The Ashen Clan's warriors were skilled fighters too, but they had never imagined combat could be so dazzling.

"Greetings, Chosen of God of Sunfire. A pleasure to meet you. I am Mortas, the Mantis Lord."

"In the name of the Sunfire God, we have come to reinforce the expedition."

Rather than the aggression Gron had expected, Mortas showed remarkable humility, placing himself in a subordinate position the moment they met.

Anyone meeting him for the first time might truly have thought he was a humble warrior who was easy to get along with.

But Gron had already learned from the letter that Mortas was, in fact, a pragmatist.

As long as faith in the Sunfire God could tangibly improve the mantises' circumstances, he would abandon their so-called traditions without hesitation.

In a sense, people like him were even more dangerous. They always put tangible benefits first.

"Greetings, Mantis Lord."

Gron furrowed his brow and said, stressing every word, "Welcome aboard."